


Mystery Of Love

by SomeSunnyDay



Series: Trusting A Feeling [4]
Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Angst, Feels, M/M, Murder, Nny Being Nny, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21716914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeSunnyDay/pseuds/SomeSunnyDay
Summary: Edgar writes a song, and while Nny is in the backyard dismembering a body, he reflects on his feelings.
Relationships: Johnny "Nny" C./Edgar Vargas
Series: Trusting A Feeling [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562908
Kudos: 10





	Mystery Of Love

**Author's Note:**

> For Tat, she suggested the pairing for this fic! 
> 
> I had to dig out an actual recipe for this so I hope it makes sense
> 
> The song is Mystery Of Love by Sufjan Stevens, and the song Edgar was humming is This Time Around <3
> 
> (And yes I am still working on DEM but the writing process for the story is a bit janky due to fitting a whole narrative in a reasonable amount of chapters oof)

" _..Oh, to see without my eyes the first time that you kissed me, boundless by the time I cried, I built your walls around me.." _

Edgar strummed his guitar, he had lyrics stuck in his head for weeks. He messed with lyric writing occasionally but never made them full songs. This time he felt this song should be a complete project.

_ "..White noise, what an awful sound, fumbling by Rogue River. Feel my feet above the ground, Hand of God, deliver me.." _

Edgar watched Johnny out the window, he was dismembering a body in the backyard. Ever since they shared the kiss Johnny's been hurting people more. Edgar hoped it would've stopped by now but Johnny showed no signs to do so. He wanted to go out and help, it looked like Johnny was having a difficult time with the leg bone but he knew better just to leave him alone.

Edgar put his guitar down and sighed, dinner needed to be made.

He set the stove and put water in a pot, Edgar wanted to try alfredo pasta. He made the noodles by hand, it gave him a medium to vent through. Rolling the dough on the counter he thought of letting go of the frustration of last week. He didn't like killing people, he really didn't. He hated the smell of dead bodies. He pushed all the negative out through the dough, he didn't want to think about how he wanted to try to kill again. He sighed, he knew he needed a therapist but he doubted he'd stay out of jail if he said too much. He had a habit of oversharing.

He wrapped and let the dough rest in the fridge as he put the alfredo together. His friend had shown him a lot of cooking techniques, he wondered absently on what he was doing now. Grating cheese was a fun relaxing thing, he wished it didn't take so long though. 

The sauce was almost finished, he almost forgot to add the nutmeg. His mind was a bit preoccupied. He boiled the pasta once it was time, added a bit of the water to the sauce and let it rest for a few minutes as he cleaned the counter. By the time he had plated everything, it was dark. 

He went to the backdoor and called out "Nny! Dinner's ready, leave the mess and we'll work on it tomorrow."

Nny was putting the man's organs in a bucket, "But if I stop now, everything'll start to smell and people  _ will  _ notice."

Edgar stepped onto the porch and sighed, he didn't have shoes on, "Hold on- let me get shoes and we'll speed this up."

Johnny nodded and Edgar went to get shoes. He grabbed a few garbage bags and helped Johnny put everything in them. Once they were done Edgar said a silent prayer and dusted himself off. Johnny set his tools down and went inside. Edgar was left standing there.

He looked at the bags and felt crunching- his spirit was crying, he didn't like seeing those bags. He couldn't use the black bags in any other situation, he'd want to puke. It just..didn't seem like the right thing to do given the use of the bags usually, y'know?

Edgar shook himself out of his thoughts and went back inside. He washed his hands twice before touching the food. He hoped it wasn't too cold now. Johnny was sitting at the table, staring at his plate. Edgar sat across from him and asked quietly, "..Are you alright?"

Johnny looked up, "Do you like to write songs?"

Edgar nodded, "It's a nice pastime, but they never really get finished."

Johnny nodded, "I like to listen to you, you have a calm voice. Though, you write sad songs, why?"

Edgar messed with his pasta "..I'm not sure."

He had a feeling as to why they've been coming out sad lately. Stress can be communicated subconsciously. Edgar looked at the pasta, thinking about these things made him lose his appetite.

Johnny started to eat, he looked to be enjoying it, "Did you make this all today?"

Edgar nodded, "It's not very difficult, just a lot of waiting really."

"Ah, I understand. Thank you for the meal." He said.

Edgar smiled, "Of course."

After they were done Johnny went back to his house. He said that he wanted to be alone. Edgar understood, though he wished _he_ wasn't alone at the moment.

He picked up the guitar and messed with chords for a while. He had a melody in mind.

_ "..How much sorrow can I take? Blackbird on my shoulder and what difference does it make, when this love is over?.." _

He started to tear up, he felt a little disconnected from himself. He tried to think about happy things but they were all shot out. He hasn't attended church in a while, to guilty to go. He hasn't talked with his acquaintances, he should reach out to them more.

_ "..Shall I sleep within your bed, river of unhappiness? Hold your hands upon my head 'til I breathe my last breath.." _

He sighed, he calmed himself down. He wanted what was best for Johnny, yet he was sacrificing who he was to do so. He wanted to cry, maybe he would finally let everything go if he did. He adjusted himself in the chair, the window was closed again. He set the guitar down and opened it, he needed something familiar at the moment. He took a breath and played the rest of his thoughts.

_ "..Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me, the last time that you touched me. Oh, will wonders ever cease? Blessed be the mystery of love.." _

He set the guitar down in the corner and let himself cry. He was fine, at that moment, he just needed to let go. After a good few minutes he calmed down again, he felt better. He hummed a song by Jessica Pratt while getting ready for bed. He'd take the bags to a pit to burn them in the morning, he knew Johnny wasn't going to come back for a few days.

He settled and covered himself, he'd get a journal or a tape recorder to get his feelings out in a more productive manner sometime soon. 

_ It'd be ok. _


End file.
